


Bibimbap & Piña Colada

by Egle0702



Category: Wonder Girls, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Adulthood, Alpha Jeon Jungkook, Alpha Park Yeeun | HA:TFELT, Alternative Universe - Contemporary A/B/O, Beta Min Yoongi | Suga, Domestic, F/M, Friendship, Multi, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Office, Omega Kim Seokjin | Jin, Omega Kim Taehyung | V, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Suggestive Themes, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23417437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Egle0702/pseuds/Egle0702
Summary: Everyone is trying to find their own way of carving themselves into a society that no longer fits the ancient mold, but the old norms are very reluctant to go away.
Relationships: Kim Seokjin | Jin & Jeon Jungkook, Kim Seokjin | Jin/Kim Yubin, Kim Yubin & Lee Sunmi





	Bibimbap & Piña Colada

Opening: [[RM – seoul (prod. HONNE)](https://open.spotify.com/track/73ipE4lfZ53pvBbJPXkiEK?si=SD8w6M3aQCOQerdS7SKaxw)]

The coffee machine comes to life with a jarring growl, and after a few more coughs, light brown liquid trickles into a white porcelain mug. Seokjin watches as dark coffee fills the mug almost to the brim, strong scent assaulting his nostrils and enveloping his brain. He can see the traffic outside of the office window, right behind the coffee machine, and there’s also the constant buzz behind him, in the shape of his boss.

Currently, the boss is explaining how they’re lucky to get some of the best roasted coffee beans in Korea, and everyone in the office is responsible for taking care of their coffee machine. Seokjin notices a piece of A4 paper taped to the fridge. It’s a kitchen cleaning schedule; with dates, names, and signatures. He recognizes names of every department that uses the kitchen on this floor.

Seokjin takes the mug and follows his boss out of the kitchen through the hall and into a labyrinth of desks and partitions. “Marketing” it says on the glass door before the boss opens it and ushers Seokjin inside.

It’s his first day on a new job. He was hired as head of marketing at a small software company that runs solely on foreign capital. With his specs and experience, he could’ve gone for another position at some other company that would’ve paid him at least 25% more, but this firm very conveniently offered accommodation for their employees who weren’t from Seoul, and Seokjin basically jumped the offer. With the rent off his shoulders, he can save so much in just a few years.

“So, this’ll be your desk,” the boss points at a wide desk with three monitors right in front of the window. There are a few plants on the floor next to it, and then there’s a glass wall that encloses a smaller office in this one wide space.

“This is my terrarium,” the boss points chuckling at the glass walls and the door with “Director” engraved on it. “And this is your team,” he gestures towards six desks set haphazardly in the space between the glass terrarium and another wide glass wall that separates them from another department.

Only one of the desks is currently occupied by a scrawny guy who looks like he’s been there for 50 years and he’s had enough. He pushes away from the desk on his wheeled chair and raises his hand when he meets Seokjin’s eyes.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m Yoongi.”

Seokjin carefully places his mug onto his desk and eyes his boss with a cocked eyebrow. Foreign capital, he thinks. Free atmosphere, he thinks. Freedom, he repeats to himself multiple times to cover his confusion. The boss seems to catch up on it quickly. He laughs and pats Seokjin on his back good-naturedly.

“These guys seldom show up before 10 am,” he says in a manner of explanation and appraisal when Seokjin barely even stirs a muscle at the strong pat. He finally catches the scent. His boss is an alpha. Well, that is nothing new.

“Yoongi will fill you in on the details,” the boss says as he turns towards his terrarium. “And we will go through the rest of the paperwork once our administrator shows up,” he salutes Seokjin and opens the glass door to his office. “If anything, I’m right behind you,” he winks.

“Literally,” Seokjin smiles politely and gives him a small bow, although he knows already, he might get reprimanded for it soon because the boss was adamant about using first names in the office (Seokjin doesn’t think he would ever be able to call him just Seongnyeong).

The glass door clicks behind him, and Seokjin turns to his desk and eyes his coffee. It’s black, hot, and he didn’t bother to add sugar. It’s disgusting.

Seokjin grabs the mug and takes a big sip. He needs to stay awake. It’s hard to admit it, but he’s had a hard time sleeping because he was too nervous about the new job. Now he feels like he’s joined a pirate ship, and he somehow needs to keep it afloat. If it’s not the caffeine, then the disgusting taste will keep him awake for sure.

The Yoongi guy approaches him pulling his chair along with him. He has a small physique and broad shoulders. There’s a mop of black hair and sharp yet kind eyes on an otherwise disinterested face. Seokjin doesn’t even need to take a sniff to tell this guy’s a beta. Even if he were on suppressants, Seokjin would still be able to tell his type. Some people are just that transparent.

Yoongi halts right in front of him and offers his hand.

“Min Yoongi,” he says. “In charge of social media.”

“Kim Seokjin,” Seokjin shakes his hand. “I’m your superior and I’m confused. Please take care of me.”

Yoongi cackles.

“Nice to meet you too,” he gestures to the chair behind Seokjin’s back, urging him to sit down, and he plops down on his own chair once Seokjin has settled. Yoongi leans his elbow onto Seokjin’s desk and points at a thick file next to a white keyboard.

“We compiled a list of our latest projects, our social media accounts, analysis on our markets, and other things we thought you might want to know ASAP,” he drawls in his disinterested yet warm voice, eyeing Seokjin carefully. “We have three copywriters and two editors. The editors have flexible hours, so if you clock out early, you might meet them like once a week,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Yeah, I’ve heard you are quite… flexible here,” Seokjin muses, opening the file and scanning the first page. The data is compiled in a very nice order. He also has to meet the former head of marketing for some paperwork handover around lunch, although he’s been in contact with the guy for over a week now, so he has a decent bag of knowledge about the company.

“Yep, Mr. Boss is very proud of that,” Yoongi nods. “Mondays are usually slow,” he continues. “Our main markets are abroad so we have an edge because of time zones. Although it’s pain if we need to put something out there in the wee hours,” Yoongi furrows his nose with distaste.

Seokjin gives him a genuine smile. Yoongi looks like he’s done with life, and it’s only 9 am on Monday morning.

“Occupational hazard, I guess,” Seokjin suggests, taking another sip of his disgusting coffee. His face doesn’t betray how terrible the drink is.

Yoongi hums with a nonchalant shrug and half-a-nod, thoughtfully sizing Seokjin up from head to toe, with a distant look in his eyes. His nostrils flare up and Seokjin knows exactly what’s coming up next.

“I’ve never worked under an omega,” Yoongi points out without a tinge of emotion in his voice. It’s just a fact, stated out in the open. Seokjin is suddenly glad how, after all these years of practice, his shoulders don’t tense anymore. He looks unperturbed. “That’ll be refreshing,” Yoongi nods and pushes away from Seokjin’s desk, wheels rattling against the floor as he slowly rolls over towards his desk.

Seokjin takes another sip of his coffee and focuses on the given file. Free accommodation, he reminds himself. Free accommodation.

***

A hand shoots up high in the air with five minutes left until the end of the class, and Yubin shortly considers ignoring it altogether. She is wiping off the whiteboard and she can easily pretend she hasn’t seen the hand, with her back turned to the class and all. Alas, that thing called peripheral vision.

Not that she doesn’t like questions. Questions are always more welcome than silence. But with these kids having warmed up to her over the first semester last spring, there is always a big chance that the questions will not be related to the class topic. Yubin heaves a barely audible sigh and turns around.

“Yes, Chaeyoung?” she leaves the magnetic wiper stuck to the whiteboard and focuses on the student.

“Is it true that Russian alphas never use suppressants?” the student with a soft round face and big round eyes asks. She has her shoulder-length hair bleached; there are also dark green highlights.

Yubin blinks and picks up her phone from the teacher’s desk. She presses the power button and the screen flares up. Three minutes to go.

“Russian society class with professor Vinogradov is at 3 pm in room 203,” she says.

Half of the class giggles. It’s not an evil giggle. Chaeyoung doesn’t look embarrassed either. If anything, she’s definitely amused as she quirks a dainty eyebrow.

“Yes, but I like you better,” she declares and there’s more giggling.

Yubin folds her arms across her chest and leans against her desk, maintaining the eye contact. Her face doesn’t betray anything, but the class is simmering with glee. They know she’s going to answer that.

“It’s not wise to generalize,” she finally says. “So, no. It’s not true. However, there is a tendency to shun suppressants because, supposedly, that clashes with the essence of,” she draws imaginary quotes in the air with her fingers. “ _Alpha-ness_.”

As if on cue, another kid asks:

“So, omegas are more likely to use pheromone suppressants?”

“I would need to consult research papers and reliable statistics, but yes. From my personal experience, Russian omegas are more likely to use suppressants than alphas,” Yubin nods. “Caucasian omegas tend to… radiate stronger scents, and there are quite a few who think that it’s burdensome, so they prefer to take suppressants to avoid constant broadcasting.”

“Is that why you take them, too?” Chaeyoung asks suddenly, and the class grows eerily quiet even though everyone has been in the middle of putting their pencils and pens into their cases, getting ready to leave the room. No one dares to stir a muscle. A few students stare at Chaeyoung like she’s just signed a death wish.

“I beg your pardon?” Yubin blinks.

“Do you take suppressants because you’re an omega, teacher Kim?” Chaeyoung doesn’t back down. If anything, she raises her chin slightly, ready to take Yubin on in a very unreasonable challenge.

Yubin hesitates just for a tiny millisecond.

“Do you dye your hair in rainbow because you’re gay, Chaeyoung?”

Someone drops their phone onto the floor with a loud clang. Yubin hopes the screen doesn’t crack. Chaeyoung stares at her with an indescribable expression on her face, slowing sinking down into her seat. Yubin turns back to her desk, ready to collect her files and textbooks.

“Class is dismissed,” she says. “I expect to hear detailed stories about houses and rooms tomorrow,” she reminds them.

Twenty freshmen slowly shuffle out of the room with multiple “See you’s” and “Until tomorrow’s” mumbled over their shoulders in a slightly accented Russian. Chaeyoung slips away without a single word.

The department is almost empty when Yubin arrives and dumps her files onto her temporary desk. Most of the teachers are out for the third period or they’re grabbing early lunch before running to the afternoon classes. There’s only one assistant professor at the back of the heavily conditioned room with only one window. He’s probably preparing for the late afternoon Russian grammar class.

Yubin gives him a nod and slumps down into her chair, turning on her computer. Generic screensaver stares back at her, saying it’s 11:16 am. After a second of consideration, she clicks her mouse and enters the password. Yubin decides to work from home for the rest of the day. Screw going to the office. She’ll just fill out the lesson plan form, grab a takeout from Hansot Dosirak, and barricade herself in her apartment.

Opening the online lesson plan form, Yubin fishes her phone from her jacket’s pocket, quickly typing out a message to her superior.

11:18 am

_Hey. Gonna work from home today.  
Gonna be online in approx. 30 min._

She’s only managed to type in the date on the plan, when her phone vibrates. Which is weird. Her superior seldom answers her texts.

11:19 am

**Sikyung**

_My love, my sunshine, my bunny bun.  
I know the farewell party was fun, but did you really forget I quit?_

Yubin stares dumbly at her phone. Well, fuck. She did, indeed, forget that Sikyung has left. Before she can type an answer, another text arrives:

11:20 am

**Sikyung**

_I’m meeting the new guy in a few  
shall I give him your number?_

11:20 am

_Never mind._

Yubin quickly exits the message window and scrolls through the list of texts, looking for a text thread from her desk neighbour. She finds it somewhere in between promotion messages from Interpark and Gmarket she received around two months ago.

11:20 am

_Yo. If anyone asks,  
working from home today._

The answer is almost immediate.

11:21 am

**Yoongi**

_‘k._

The lesson plan comes along quick. It’s always a lot easier to describe a class you’ve already had instead of coming up with a future plan. No one can tell the difference if you submit everything before the deadline anyway. No one cares.

Yubin couldn’t care less about the system, but she doesn’t want to cause problems for the professor who’s brought her in, so she files all the paperwork properly. Even though it pains her more than the evening skincare routine.

She glances quickly at the clock at the bottom right corner of her screen. 11:30 am. Not too shabby. The assistant professor passes by her desk with several books under his arm and a quiet greeting as he leaves the office. Yubin nods.

She’s about to click the “SUBMIT” button, when there’s a knock on the door, and it opens immediately. A bleached head with green highlights creeps in and Yubin locks eyes with Chaeyoung. The girl looks conflicted, but determined.

“May I come in?” she asks.

“Sure,” Yubin pulls away from the computer, ignoring the nervous knot in her stomach and looking around for a chair. She eventually steals one from a desk nearby and pulls it in front of her, indicating for Chaeyoung to sit down.

The air conditioner buzzes quietly when Chaeyoung walks over and sits down, hands in her lap. The sole window in the office is covered with blinds, but stray sun rays fall on Chaeyoung’s hair, making her highlights look like expensive emeralds.

Yubin waits. The potential of confrontation makes her heart beat faster with anxiety, and she hopes that the blood that rushes to her head doesn’t colour her cheeks. She should really wear make-up to school.

“I…” Chaeyoung clears her throat, nervously wringing her hands. “I’m sorry I’ve assumed your type in class,” she looks up, looking scared but sitting straight. “That was very rude of me. I apologize,” she stands up abruptly and gives a deep bow, her hair swaying back and forth.

Yubin considers her for a second, until she heaves a resigned sigh and waves for the student to sit down.

“Apology accepted,” she glances back to her screen, ready to turn off the computer. “Just don’t make it that obvious.”

“Sorry?” confusion floods Chaeyoung’s face.

“You think I don’t know about the Kakao group chat where you guys are betting on my type?” she clicks the Shutdown button.

A senior Yubin knows through a common acquaintance told her about the chat group back in March. She thought it was cute if not a little bit obnoxious. Seeing how the attempts to make her slip and blurt out her type were becoming increasingly common, Yubin guesses the stakes in the bet have grown pretty high.

Chaeyoung takes a sharp breath and her face blushes deep red. But she doesn’t back down. Yubin is impressed.

“Okay, I did bet on your being an omega,” she admits. “But it’s not about winning.”

“What is it about then?” Yubin smiles cocking an eyebrow.

Chaeyoung regards her for a moment and then focuses on her hands in her lap again. Her voice is barely audible when she says:

“It would just mean a lot to me if you were an omega, teach Kim.”

“How so? Why does it matter to you what I am?” she already has an inkling, but Yubin has to hear it from the student.

“Because…” Chaeyoung swallows. “Because you’re so smart and strong, and independent, and you’re so no-nonsense, and you never back down, but you’re also so considerate…” she babbles.

Yubin feels like every word from the girl’s mouth flings right at her like a stone. She’s not a role model. She doesn’t want to be. She wants Chaeyoung to stop, but she doesn’t know how to do it without startling the girl. Chaeyoung rattles on.

“… and sweet, and funny, and you make everyone feel at ease even when we have exams, you care so much when someone doesn’t show up to class, even if you don’t show. You’re like, everything an omega should be, and everything we shouldn’t be at the same time, and—”

Yubin’s hand lands on top of Chaeyoung’s fingers and the girl hushes with a hiccough.

“Chaeyoung,” she says calmly. “Type is not a character trait,” Yubin shakes her head. “Neither is your gender, your race, or your nationality. Those are just layers that surround you. Whatever you are or you want to be, that’s up to you,” she squeezes Chaeyoung’s hands lightly. “If you feel that you need to look up to someone, that’s fine. But don’t limit yourself just because that someone might not be the same type as you. We’ve come way too far to allow something as ancient and rudimentary as types to hold us back now,” she shakes the girl’s hands a little bit and stares her straight in the eye. “Okay?”

Chaeyoung looks like she’s about to explode. It’s like she’s stopped breathing and her eyes are darting across Yubin’s face, looking for something. She finally breathes out an “okay” with a small smile and gets up from the chair. Yubin looks up at her.

“Thank you for accepting my apology,” Chaeyoung bows again and turns to leave. “I’m not gay, by the way.”

“Huh?” Yubin blurts out distracted, ready to shove her belongings into her bag and just scram the hell out of the university.

“I’m bi,” Chaeyoung shrugs and smiles. She clearly waits for reaction. Yubin blinks and her brain kicks in slowly.

“I… thank you for trusting me, Chaeyoung,” she narrows her eyes. “But I’m still not telling.”

Chaeyoung laughs and heads over to the door.

“I knew it wouldn’t work,” she says giving Yubin a cute snaggletooth smile. “You’re still my favourite professor though!”

“I’m not a professor,” Yubin sputters indignantly.

“You teach at university, so you’re a professor!” Chaeyoung declares and bows one last time. “See you tomorrow!”

Yubin stares at her desktop, nothing but static silence in her brain. Her cheeks tingle and there’s this horrible feeling at the back of her neck telling that she’s not qualified. She hasn’t signed up for this. She’s a temp. She’s only agreed to take over the Russian Conversation classes until professor Pavlova returns.

Leaving the office and hurrying down the stairs, Yubin decides to grab a few beers along with the lunch take-out. She’s not cut out for Mondays.

***

He’s not the first to arrive at the office. Despite the constant rattling about free atmosphere and loose schedule, Yoongi still arrives first. Seokjin drops his bag onto his chair and walks over to the social media dude to shake his hand.

It’s Tuesday. His second day on the new job, and the office already feels slightly familiar with familiar faces, scents, and haircuts. He met all three copywriters yesterday, but the editors were absent. One editor is on vacation and the other one apparently worked from home. He’s only found completed tasks in the company’s inner database and his inbox. Not that he could check much because the content was all in Russian. He just made sure that it went online.

It isn’t like the machine requires much input on his part. It is working well, and previous projects are being pushed forward without big glitches. So, Seokjin decides that his main objective for now would be looking for new opportunities to put their content out there and to boost their sales. For that, he figures, he might also need to have a talk or two with the sales department.

Seokjin also thinks he will go through most of the tasks before lunch and then maybe work from home (since they make it obvious that it is always an option) because he is finally moving into the company-provided apartment, and he needs to let the movers in. It is rather weird to move on a Tuesday, but the service also costs less if you hire them on a weekday.

A low exasperated grunt reaches his ears from somewhere behind him. Seokjin blinks and turns around on his swivel chair. He focuses on Yoongi who is staring at his monitor with a frustrated look in his eyes, his finger tapping on his mouse impatiently. His dark hair almost covers his eyes, and he’s so pale Seokjin wonders if it’s just his skin or he has vitamin D deficiency.

Yoongi grunts again and leans back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, staring at his screen with so much venom, Seokjin thinks it’s hardly even possible to have so much contempt for something online. He considers it for a second, and then pushes away from his desk and leisurely rolls towards Yoongi, careful not impose on his personal space too much. Up closer, the beta smells frustrated.

“Trouble in the paradise?” Seokjin asks carefully but keeps his tone light.

“This fucker keeps on shitting on our product and sub-tweeting us,” Yoongi motions at the screen with his chin. “But I don’t want to give them attention cuz then they’ll know we can be triggered.”

Seokjin looks at the monitor and focuses on the Twitter account page that fills half of the screen. It looks like an English-speaking influencer from somewhere in the United States with a medium-sized follower base. Seokjin scrolls through their timeline and yes, he sees that the user has been openly shitting on their latest game, but they don’t mention the official account.

Normally, he wouldn’t pay attention to something like that, and in reality, this kind of negative attention isn’t bad because it still translates into publicity. But if this continues, users might subconsciously associate the negativity with their product, and that’s definitely something they don’t need.

Seokjin glances at the follower numbers again. Their official account is lagging behind this user a little bit, but quoting would make them look pressed. He glances at Yoongi quickly:

“May I?” he asks looking at the keyboard and then back at Yoongi. Yoongi gestures at the keyboard and pushes further from his desk.

Seokjin reaches for the mouse and scrolls through the user’s profile, looking for the sauciest tweet about their product. He chooses one, clicks the mention bubble and quickly types an answer, chuckling quietly to himself. He adds a kissy face emoticon for a good measure.

Quite satisfied with himself, Seokjin pulls back and Yoongi leans in. He reads the answer:

 _You have a right to remain silent_ 😙

Before he can catch himself, Yoongi snorts.

“You sure it’s a good idea?”

“Yep,” Seokjin nods, pointing at the replies to their conversation thread that are flowing almost instantaneously. “Sometimes you have to stand up to bullies.”

“Morning! What’s up?”

Taehyung, one of the copywriters, enters the office and beelines straight to Yoongi and Seokjin, without bothering to leave his stuff at the desk that stands right opposite to Yoongi’s. He leans against the back of Seokjin’s chair and stares at the monitor, too.

It’s been just a day, but Taehyung has already warmed up to him. Maybe it is because he is another omega, although Seokjin can’t be sure about that. Whatever the reason was, Taehyung glued himself to Seokjin’s side yesterday after lunch, and Seokjin is now sure there is very little he doesn’t know about the company.

“Seokjin here has called out the 64-bit guy,” Yoongi informs him looking quite amused. They seldom engage in direct conversations on Twitter using the official account, so suddenly their followers are really excited about Seokjin’s mention. The retweet numbers keep on rising.

“About time,” Taehyung sighs and nods. “That account always yells about free speech and constructive criticism, but what they do is just plain bullying, and…” he trails off staring at the screen.

“And?” Yoongi asks patiently, knowing Taehyung has a tendency to switch between topics without any notice.

“Why is Sunmi trending worldwide?”

Both, Yoongi and Seokjin focus on the trend list. It’s not unusual for local celebrities to be at the top of the worldwide trend list, especially now that Twitter hosts some of the biggest Korean entertainment fandoms, but Sunmi’s so big of a star that the news should’ve popped on the local sites first.

As Yoongi clicks on the trend, Taehyung grapples for his phone and opens Naver. She’s trending there, too. Yoongi goes straight for the image tab, and the monitor is flooded with airport photos. The actress looks great, but what else is new. There’s nothing incriminating or…

“Hold on,” Seokjin narrows his eyes and takes the mouse from Yoongi, clicking on one particular photo.

“ _Actress Sunmi lands in Korea after shooting a movie overseas_ ,” Taehyung reads a headline on his phone. “ _Top secret role for the Korean actress,_ ” he reads another headline when Seokjin zooms in on the photo. “ _Hollywood in the palm of her hand. More to be revealed when the movie goes into post-production. After hard work, Sunmi is back home to rest._ ”

“Good for her,” Yoongi muses. “What’s with the secrecy though, is she shooting for Marvel or something.”

“Well fuck me…” Seokjin gasps when he looks closely at the zoomed in photo. Yoongi gives him a judging eye.

“Not interested,” he says and Taehyung snorts.

“No,” Seokjin swats Yoongi’s thigh suddenly forgetting his resolution to stay away from everyone’s personal space. “Look!”

He points at the screen. Sunmi is looking back at them, staring straight at the reporter’s camera. She wears a light make-up and an autumn breeze plays with her long black hair right outside of the airport entrance. She is holding her phone up, the screen turned to the camera, arm stretched out. There is a playful smile on her face as she’s clearly boasting of something as she shows the reporter her phone.

Taehyung gasps and Yoongi’s eyes widen.

It’s blurry and hard to read, but they would recognize that colour scheme anywhere. It’s their latest game app. Sunmi. Currently the hottest actress in the country and probably the Eastern hemisphere. That Sunmi. Is endorsing their product. Their side product. And they’ve begun dabbing into mobile gaming on recently. Compared to other gaming companies in the country, they’re nothing more than a miniscule start-up. And Sunmi knows them. Seokjin almost feels his stomach flip several times.

He checks the original tweet. The photo has been tweeted by an official media outlet account.

“Quote RT that and say something nice without mentioning or tagging her,” he tells Yoongi.

“But shouldn’t we contact her management first?” Yoongi is doubtful.

“She’s clearly bragging about the game. It’s posted by a reliable news outlet,” Seokjin is rolling back to his seat, his mind exploding with multiple ideas. “Do it,” he orders when he’s finally back to his desk.

Taehyung takes his seat opposite to Yoongi as the social media manager grunts and starts typing. Seokjin opens a blank email window, when his Social Studio app pings with a new notification. He opens their account and almost smiles. There’s that Sunmi picture where she’s totally flaunting their game, quote-tweeted with additional caption from Min Yoongi:

 _Queen!_ 😍

It’s only after he goes through all the copies Taehyung has written during the morning hours and a blessing from the boss that Seokjin finally manages to get out of the office, and he hurries down the busy street to the subway station. He manages to catch the Gyeongui-Jungang line train right on time, and it saves him the trouble of taking a bus back to Hoegi-dong.

He gets off at the Hoegi station in less than ten minutes and walks straight home, to the apartment building a few blocks away from Kyung Hee University. Seokjin checks his phone one more time, making sure that the movers are not there yet, and hastens his pace.

The weather is nice. Upbeat pop songs are blasting from open clothes and cosmetics shop doors, high school and university students crowding several street-food stalls along the way. He stands in front of a red traffic light, waiting for it to turn green as he quickly mulls over the things he’s still supposed to do today.

Lugging all the boxes up to his apartment shouldn’t take too long. He doesn’t have that much stuff, and most of his clothes are already there. So, whatever the moving company is bringing, it’s just a few boxes he packed back at his parents’ in Gwacheon over the weekend. Seokjin’s never been much of a hoarder. Sure, he sometimes gets attached to things, and he likes comfortable life, but basic essentials have always been his top priority. Contrary to the public opinion, he didn’t need an extravagant nest with silk sheets and multiple cushions. One warm blanket and a comfortable pillow could always do the trick anyway.

The green light switches on and here comes the annoying beeping. Seokjin quickly crosses the street with a horde of excited-looking freshmen.

“<…> apologized?! Fuck, you have guts, Chaeyoung!”

“The teach was so nice about it, I felt like crap. Fuck, I love her… <…>”

Fragments of animated conversation reach his ears, but the students take a sharp turn to the right and get out of Seokjin’s hearing range before he can focus on whatever they’ve been talking about. If anything, he thinks kids these days indulge in rough language more than necessary.

Not that we were any different, he snorts quietly to himself. He stops by the closest CU convenience store to grab a few cups of instant ramyeon, just in case he wouldn’t be in the mood to cook his dinner. The cashier tries to flirt with him experimentally, and he flirts back, which makes the poor beta turn the brightest shade of red.

Smiling proudly to himself, Seokjin shoves the instant ramyeon cups into his backpack and hurries out, the apartment building already towering right in front of him. He gets a call from the movers right when he stops in front of the elevator, ready to go down to the parking lot. He thanks the manager and assures them he will be down there shortly, and that he will help them carry everything to his apartment. He vehemently refuses to stay put when the manager suggests the client should just wait upstairs.

When he finally exists the elevator into the underground parking lot, he finds the manager going through his phone with an annoying expression on his face, while another man in the moving company’s uniform is struggling to open the backdoor of the van. The man looks neither small nor lanky, so Seokjin wonders what could be the problem as he walks closer.

“Sir, I’m sorry but it doesn’t open,” the man rattles at the handle again, shooting the manager a pleading look. His voice echoes in the half-empty parking lot.

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone with an omega,” the manager gives an exasperated sigh and pockets his phone, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can’t even open a goddamn door.”

The other man clenches his jaw and tries to open the door again. The manager doesn’t even budge.

Seokjin narrows his eyes, his dark eyebrows slashing sharply into a frown. There’s a faint sheen of sweat clinging to his nape and his collarbone from his fast walk, so he unzips his jacket and pops open the first three buttons of his shirt, making sure his scent wafts away from him as far as possible. Then he marches straight to the struggling man, ignoring the manager who has finally noticed him.

“Excuse me,” he says softly to the man.

The man stops pulling at the door, turns around, and his eyes slightly widen when he sees Seokjin stand there, towering over him. Without any other word, Seokjin reaches for the handle, grasps it, pushes it up slightly, and then basically rips the door open with one single tug from his shoulder.

The moving company employee stares at him wide-eyed, his jaw drops open. Now that Seokjin is closer, he can smell a faint scent of illness coming from the man, and Seokjin figures he is recovering from cold or something like that. He nods at the man and then turns to the manager, offering him a soft smile and a hand.

“Hello, I’m Kim Seokjin.”

When all the carton boxes are stacked neatly in his hall, Seokjin signs the remaining papers and sees the men from the moving company out. The omega shoves five or six peppermint candies into his hand before he closes the door. It’s those simple white candies they give you at restaurants on your way out to fight the strong chili sauce breath, and Seokjin is almost sure the candies are complimentary gifts to all clients, but for some reason, he can’t help but feel that he’s given more than the usual.

As the manager leaves, the omega gives another deep bow to Seokjin and hurries after his superior. Seokjin watches him go feeling half-sad, half-amused, and then he closes the door. The electronic lock beeps and locks him away from the world.

Seokjin kicks off his shoes and steps into his slippers, walking around the stacks of his boxes and taking off his jacket. He drops it into the laundry basket on his way to the kitchen. The jacket is soaked with his sweat and his scent; he’s not wearing it again until he washes it.

An echo of a beeping lock reaches his ears, and he realizes it’s coming from the flat next door. His neighbour must be leaving. Seokjin takes out a bottle of water from his fridge and replays the beeping in his head. He hears the door close and decides that the walls shouldn’t be too thin, so unless the neighbours are extremely loud, he should be able to sleep with no problem.

Taking a big swig of ice-cold water, Seokjin moves swiftly into the living room and sits down onto the floor, leaning his back against a dark sofa. He will sort out the boxes later. He wants to check their site traffic and then maybe catch the Russian language editor, just to make sure that he’s uploaded everything properly. There might also be another copy from Taehyung sitting at the top of his inbox, although Seokjin has clearly told him that Taehyung can just put his stuff online himself.

For some reason, Seokjin thinks as he opens his laptop and leans his elbows on a low coffee table in front of him, stretching his legs under it, Taehyung seems to be hankering for his approval and attention. And while he has an inkling as to where that comes from, and he’s actually willing to give that attention, he feels he needs to draw clear boundaries because Taehyung needs to learn how to be independent.

Seokjin also thinks the department needs a content manager and just after a day and a half he’s almost convinced that Kim Taehyung is the right person for the position. Seokjin really dislikes double-checking copies and other content before putting that up. He’s not an editor. He’s a strategist.

When Slack loads on his laptop, Seokjin sees that the editor is still offline. He sighs and clicks on the marketing team channel, where Yoongi is spamming everyone with selective replies to their Sunmi post and Seokjin’s tweet to their residential bully. He is about to send a very eloquent reply (mostly full of extensive aspirated consonants that indicate a chuckling sound), when a Kakao Talk notification pops up at the bottom right of his screen.

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_They say I can go back to school only next year because attendance_ _ㅠㅠ_

Seokjin clicks the notification and scrolls through several crying and distraught emoticon stickers to type a reply.

_I told you it was too late. Now wait._

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_I can’t stay in Busan!  
I have an internship ready and all._

_…  
When did you manage to land that?  
And how come I don’t know about it?_

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_I have skills^^_

_So, what’s the problem?  
Stay in Seoul and work before you go back to uni._

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_I was betting too much on my grades and getting a dorm room._

…

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_…_

_…_

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_y/y?_

_No._

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_Please._

_NO._

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_PLEASE?!_

_I’ve just moved in! It’s a company flat!_

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_I can sleep on the kitchen floor!_

_Drop it, sergeant._

A ton of crying penguin stickers ensues, as well as a series of moving devasted anime cat emoticons. Seokjin stares at his screen in disbelief and groans, hiding his face behind his palm. In another window, he sees the marketing team laugh about something in their chat group.

It’s not that he dislikes the idea. Living with Jungkook is easy; the kid’s super quiet and sleeps half of the time he’s there. He’s also really clean, which is a bonus. And it’s useful to have a sturdy alpha at your beck and call. He even has an extra bedroom. But it’s just that…

The sad stickers are still coming, so he grunts and types quickly:

_Where’s your internship office at?_

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_Sinsa_

_I live in Hoegi, you little shit._

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_The commute ain’t that long!_

_…  
I need to ask my boss about this._

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_Yes!!_

_And you can’t take my car whenever you feel like it. You need to ask._

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_YES!!!!!!_

_But ONLY until you get a dorm room, got it?  
You owe me. Again._

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_I’ll do your laundry! :D_

_You would do it anyway._

**Busan Jeon Jungkook**

_Fair point ^^_

Seokjin exits the chat window and rubs his tired eyes. He didn’t ask for this. Reaching for his water bottle, he looks back at the hall, where all the boxes are stacked neatly one onto the other, and he suddenly chooses physical chores over mental drain.

He takes a quick sip of his water and types a curt “brb” into the marketing chat group before standing up and gulping down whatever was left in the bottle. He closes his laptop right when the editor goes online.

***

_Baby shark, doo roo roo doo roo, cutie pie, doo roo roo doo roo, in the sea, doo roo roo doo roo, baby shark~~_

…

???

The body tries its best and clutches at the last remnants of sleep, but the brain is too confused and preoccupied with the unexpected intruder.

_Mommy shark, doo roo roo doo roo, fabulous, doo roo roo doo roo, in the sea, doo roo roo doo roo, mommy shark~_

???

What the actual hell?

The muffled noise intensifies when brain focuses on it and starts following the tune. Yubin pries one eye open. Looking at things hurts.

_Daddy shark_ , _doo roo roo doo roo, powerful, doo roo roo doo roo, in the sea, doo roo roo doo roo, daddy shark~_

Oh, for the love of… Yubin kicks off her blanket and fishes her phone from under her pillow. The screen lights up suddenly and she squints and frowns in the dim twilight. The sun is probably up, but her blinds are drawn, and she groans when she sees it’s 6:30 in the morning. On a Wednesday.

She has no class on Wednesdays, so she can sleep in, but for some reason one of the neighbours decided to use the most obnoxious tune for their alarm at this ungodly hour.

Yubin looks around slightly dazed, her dark hair falling all over her eyes. She blinks slowly, trying to fight the bleariness in her eyes. Maybe if she hadn’t crashed on her sofa in the living-room the night before she wouldn’t have to deal with noises from the apartment next door. Normally, the bedroom is a lot quieter.

Her eyes still sting, but her brain is fully awake, so Yubin thinks she might as well just take a shower and get to work early for a change. Maybe even meet the new head of the department. Taehyung is all gaga over the guy, so she’s vaguely curious.

As if on cue, something clicks distantly, and the muted noise intrudes into her living-room again:

_Baby shark, doo roo roo doo roo, cutie pie, doo roo roo doo roo, in the sea, doo roo roo doo roo—_

Yubin sighs and patiently rubs her temples. You did NOT put THAT on a snooze, did you… The song abruptly stops, and she hears a distinct thud in the quiet of her apartment, and then it’s followed by an annoyed grunt. Man, these walls are thin.

Yubin hopes they fell out of bed.

***

She trudges into the office with her bag in hand, grumbling a throaty _hello_ in a purposely accented English. Taehyung’s desk neighbour Suji, a writer who usually keeps to herself, stops typing and gazes up at Yubin over the top of her thick-rimmed glasses. Yoongi glances away from his screen and openly gapes. A cup of freshly made morning coffee is steaming next to his keyboard. Yubin is only the third person to arrive, apart from the two early birds of the Marketing Department.

Yoongi glances at his screen again.

“It’s not even 9 yet…” he points out when Yubin drags her feet around his chair and plops down into her seat next to him.

“My neighbour has a very obnoxious morning alarm,” she grumbles and turns on her computer. Yubin sits straight in her chair, blinking owlishly. Her eyes are focused on her screen, but it’s not clear if she sees anything.

Yoongi considers her for a minute before he grips the handle of his mug and carefully places his coffee over on her desk, not even bothering to spare her another glance.

“I haven’t touched it,” he says matter-of-factly.

“You know I don’t drink coffee,” she says, but her fingers wrap around the mug almost immediately.

“You need it more than I do,” Yoongi grunts.

She regards him for a second, and then offers of quiet “thank you,” as she brings the mug to her nose and takes in a deep breath.

The scent is heavenly. It will probably take her more than half an hour to drink it because coffee always sends her heart into overdrive, which results in sweating, which in turn, results in being a nasty stinker, and she sure doesn’t want to stink at work. The coffee scent is enough to pull her out of her dark pit for now.

“Sales department says there was a spike in the game sales overnight,” Suji utters out of the blue, and it’s the second time that morning that Yoongi gapes.

Yubin takes another sniff of the coffee and peeks at Suji over the top of her monitor.

“Sales department or Junho?” she asks in a tone that doesn’t betray anything. There’s a noticeable flush on Suji’s cheeks, but she holds her ground.

“Sales department,” she maintains, and Yubin looks back to her screen as the social media monitoring app opens, and she focuses on it with a soft smile on her face.

“They’re gonna start betting if it was Sunmi or Seokjin replying to the 64-bit guy,” Yoongi muses, his fingers dancing over his keyboard. “Do they even know that Sikyung quit though?”

“They probably don’t. But either way, both were the new marketing guy,” Yubin shrugs logging into her account, and it suddenly feels like the entire VK platform is under her fingertips.

Some of the keywords she had marked yesterday are still trending. Sunmi is also trending in the sub categories that deal with Korean entertainment. All the possible spellings of her name in Cyrillic are still up there. The corners of her eyes crinkle fondly.

“Brat,” she mumbles under breath.

“Good morning!” says an unfamiliar voice, and Yubin places the mug onto her desk with a slight tremor of anxiety flaring up and down her spine. The voice is strong, but not hoarse or grainy. It somehow sounds fluid and even… silvery.

“Morning,” Yoongi grunts.

“Morning!” Suji squeaks back enthusiastically.

Yubin finally looks up and pushes away from her desk still lounging in her chair. A figure in white sneakers, dark navy-blue slacks, and a light blue button-up with thin white vertical stripes stands at the desk over there in the farthest corner, his back turned at them, pulling something out of his backpack.

He has broad shoulders, and his slacks hug his figure snugly, emphasizing the contrast between his waist and strong hips. There’s a mop of thick black hair cut neatly right at the top of his nape, and when he turns around, that hair hides most of his forehead, only a tiny fraction of his left eyebrow visible where his fringe parts slightly. There’s no gel in his hair and Yubin thinks the guy has figured out the office dress-code rather quickly.

She rises from her chair when his gaze lands on her, and there’s a change in his posture. It’s like he doesn’t know if he should go for the official or friendly. She thinks she totally gets it. He’s her direct superior, but it’s obvious that he’s younger, so it must be confusing for him.

Yubin smiles and walks towards the new head of the department, offering him her hand.

“Hi,” she says when he shakes her hand. She’s glad she hasn’t had any coffee yet; her hand is still dry. “I’m Yubin.”

“Hello,” two big single-lidded eyes look kindly at her when she cranes her head up to meet his gaze. “I’m Seokjin.” The eyes are of dark yet warm brown. His hand is pleasantly warm, too.

“We’ve only met on Slack before,” she offers a polite smile. “Nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Nice to meet you too,” his full and thick lips stretch into a smile over a row of perfect yet anatomically impossible teeth. She wonders if it’s veneers or crowns. “I’ve been told you’re the office veteran here, so I’ll look forward to your kind cooperation,” he suddenly gives a small bow and Yubin almost snorts.

“Yeah,” she nods back at him. “With Sikyung gone, I’m kinda the most… senior marketing department employee?” she shrugs. “But don’t let that faze you. I mean, as you’ve seen, I’m mostly MIA… If you need to order us around, you order us around.”

His smile grows winder and his eyes crinkles at the corners.

“Gotcha,” he nods politely again. Yubin nods in turn and the slightly awkward silence that ensues is a good cue for both of them to go back to their seats.

Her chair creaks lightly when she sits down and rolls closer to her desk. The coffee still smells nice, and there are new tasks in her inbox. She skims over the subject lines with a slight frown on her face and decides to get down to them after coffee and backtracking on VK.

There’s an endless murmur and laughter coming from the research department next door, but their office is mostly quiet. The silence is only accentuated by the constant hum of computers, mouse clicks, and relentless clacking of the keyboards under their fingertips. Suji is especially fervent about whatever she’s typing. Yoongi comes back from the office kitchen with another mug of coffee. Judging from the shape of it, that must be Taehyung’s mug. Yubin smirks to herself.

She finally takes the first sip of her cooling coffee and a Slack chat notification pops up on her screen. It’s a private chat notification, which is weird. Yubin clicks it open.

**Kim Seokjin**

_I would still like to ask you something, if that’s okay with you._

Huh. She puts down the mug and types back quickly.

**Kim Yubin**

_Sure. Shoot._

**Kim Seokjin**

_What’s our office dinner policy? Are they weekly or monthly? Is it possible to skip them? I assume there might be one incoming due to my joining the team, and I’d like to be ready. Also, wouldn’t want to impose on anyone. Just realized I forgot to ask Sikyung about it ^^;;_

Yubin’s fingers stutter over her keyboard for a tiny nano-second when she notices the emoji. They do indulge in emojis and emoticons all the time, but it’s interesting to see her direct superior use it in a very first private chat. The dude seems more strait-laced than that.

**Kim Yubin**

_I suppose it’s pretty loose. You can always skip, although the boss-man will nag you if you don’t have a very good excuse. And yeah, I’d say there’s going to be a get-together to celebrate your joining the team, but it definitely won’t happen this week because the boss-man loves office dinners, and he’s out of the country atm. Trust me, he’ll give you and everyone else a heads-up about that_ 😊

**Kim Seokjin**

_Beans._  
_Anything else I should know about the team?_  
_Like, things to look out for, boundaries, etc?_

**Kim Yubin**

_…_  
_beans?_

**Kim Seokjin**

_Cool beans :D_

**Kim Yubin**

_Oh. Hmm…_  
_Well, I don’t think there’s anything you wouldn’t have realized already._  
_Like, Yoongi is a tsundere. He looks like he’s about to slap you, but he’s the mother hen of the department. Really warm and nice guy. Also, the best at what he does._  
_Taehyung practically worships the ground you walk on already._

She hears the head of the department snort quietly at his desk, and she doesn’t understand why, but it urges her to continue with more enthusiasm.

**Kim Yubin**

_Suji is very shy, but she works magic with her keyboard. I wouldn’t be surprised if she writes some raunchy stuff on her free time._  
_Gihyun works super-fast when you need a copy immediately, but he has a bit of a mouth on him. Rivals Sikyung’s. He also has a thick skin though, so if you feel that he steps over the line, just throw it back at him and it’ll shut him up._

**Kim Seokjin**

_Noted._

**Kim Yubin**

_Eunkyung speaks like five languages and has everything under control. When she’s in the office, it feels like even the air bends to her will. She’s amazing. Just wait till she’s back from vacation. I honestly don’t know what she’s doing wasting her talent here…_

**Kim Seokjin**

_What about you?_

**Kim Yubin**

_I don’t have that many talents to waste._

**Kim Seokjin**

_:D_  
_I’m pretty sure that’s debatable. But I meant more like… anything about you I should know?_

**Kim Yubin**

_I cuss in Russian when I get really pissed because it sounds like Klingon and it startles people._

The snort and wheezing from the other side of the office is an unmistakable sign that Kim Seokjin is trying to swallow down his giggles. Yubin leans back into her chair feeling accomplished.

**Kim Seokjin**

_Noted. Thanks_ 😊

**Kim Yubin**

_Anytime._ 👍

He also knows when to back off and exit the conversation, which is nice. It doesn’t seem too awkward as with some other people from the company, and she hopes that they’re going to enjoy working together. At least they don’t seem to have any problems with online communication when she works remotely.

Yubin notices a spike in certain keywords on VK and she clicks to investigate, her Slack window minimized and Yoongi’s coffee mug in her hand. She takes two sips of her coffee and frowns because it’s lukewarm and terribly bitter, but it sure wakes up her alright.

Taehyung arrives at the office, greets everyone and beelines straight to Seokjin for a short chat. Yoongi side-eyes them, and then shares a semantically loaded glance with Yubin, to which Yubin raises her eyebrows and raises her mug. Yoongi grips his own (Taehyung’s) cup and toasts it with Yubin’s. There’s a muted clang when porcelain meets porcelain. Suji types away.

Yubin’s phone vibrates violently on her desk, but it mostly drowns in the hushed chit-chat at the other end of the room. Seokjin’s voice is animated and Taehyung’s is low and soft. She tunes the words out because frankly, she doesn’t care. Yubin snatches her phone and presses her thumb to the fingerprint scanner to unlock it. There’s one new Kakao Talk message:

**Ring-a-ling**

_Hello!_  
_What does your schedule look like for this weekend?_

A fond smile spreads across her face. Yubin types back without any hesitation.

_Hi! What are we looking at?_

**Ring-a-ling**

_I’m thinking, Saturday afternoon, provided it doesn’t rain?_  
_The weather forecast looks fine so far._

_Cool! Yeouido or Ttukseom?_

**Ring-a-ling**

_Yeouido? Decide on the exact time and place later?_

👍

**Ring-a-ling**

👍

Yubin locks her phone and takes another sip of her coffee. Seems like her Saturday is booked. It’s nice to have something to look forward to.

***

Seokjin looks at the stone bowl of steamy sundubu jjigae in front of him, and his heart leaps in excitement. He grabs the spoon and stabs the raw egg yolk at the top of his dish, watching as the translucent egg white turns into an actual white in the borderline boiling stew.

Chaotic clamour of metal utensils and human voices assault his ears from every direction possible, but he doesn’t find it annoying. It’s the lunch hour, and they have chosen probably the hottest place for sundubu in the entire Wangsimni area. It is a miracle they’ve managed to get a row of small low tables in the first place.

It’s Friday, and it’s the first day in the week that the entire marketing team is finally present. With Eunkyung the second editor back from vacation, Seokjin didn’t even notice how he was roped into the department plans to have lunch together. Admittedly, it’s a lot better than getting wasted on a Friday night at an office dinner with people you barely know, so Seokjin agreed without any second thought.

So, he sits now with Taehyung on his right and Yoongi on his left and listens to the chatter. Eunkyung is telling everyone about her New Zealand trip. She sits opposite of Seokjin with Yubin on her left and Suji on her right. Gihyun is slowly munching his rice next to Yubin.

Suji pales when Eunkyung shows her something on her phone, and Taehyung eagerly asks them to share. Apparently, it’s a photo of Eunkyung right before she plummets down the canyon on the Nevis Swing. Half of the table is excited, the other half of horrified. Seokjin smiles to himself and absent-mindedly thinks that Jungkook would love it.

He then blinks and shakes his head, getting a spoonful of his stew and carefully blowing on it. With the food finally in his mouth, he allows himself to hope that this team is okay. They’re young, and chatty, but not obnoxious, and they don’t make him feel left out by being overtly polite to him. Even though he’s their superior, they treat him as another team player, and he likes it. Seokjin thinks this could also be partially because he’s practically their age. Or maybe because he’s an omega. It always takes a while to determine which hierarchical structure is used within an office, so he doesn’t want to judge yet.

“… got that out of the way,” his brain finally tunes into the conversation. “Won’t be too shocking if boss-man books bungee for the Halloween trip.”

“Halloween trip?” Seokjin asks confused when Gihyun slurps his stew.

“We always have office Halloween parties,” Taehyung is quick to explain. “And they’re usually outside of Seoul.”

“Yes, and our boss is very enthusiastic about “activities,” Yoongi mutters on his left, drawing imaginary quotes with his long fingers.

“I don’t think he’d take us bungee jumping this time,” Eunkyung mulls over the idea, and Seokjin can see what Yubin meant the other day: she clearly commands your entire attention. If he didn’t know better, Seokjin would bet she’s an alpha, but his nose clearly told him she’s not as soon as she stepped into the office this morning.

“Like, almost half of the research and programming team guys got married this year. You know what that means,” she waves her spoon. “The chances of extreme activities are almost zero.”

“It’s still a weekend trip though,” Yubin shrugs and part of her silky black hair falls over her shoulder. “So, they’re gonna get wasted.”

“And I’m gonna be there to film it,” Eunkyung answers matter-of-factly tapping her phone with her free hand.

Seokjin smiles and swallows down a laugh that threatens to bubble in his chest. He stuffs his mouth with another spoonful of the hot stew.

“Has the theme been announced yet?” Eunkyung continues. She and Taehyung seem to be the main conversation pillars in their team. “I haven’t checked my mail in weeks.”

“Not yet,” Taehyung answers. “There’s still plenty of time.”

“You might as well start eyeing super hero costumes, though,” Yoongi grumbles as he dumps half of his rice into his stew. The rest of the team eyes him curiously.

“How so?” Yubin is the first to ask while the others are still too confused to utter a single world.

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the pattern yet,” Yoongi narrows his eyes and waves his chopsticks at them, his voice nasal and borderline whiny. “He just takes the top five movies of the year and mashes them up. That’s how half of the office were grim reapers last year, seriously,” he sighs eyeing every single one of them disappointed and shaking his head. “I can’t believe you all, some of you’ve been working for him longer than me!” a frustrated groan escapes his mouth and Seokjin has to fight the urge to pat Yoongi’s back.

“So, it’s either super heroes in spandex or lousy ass detectives,” Yubin muses thoughtfully, biting into a crunchy kkakdugi.

“Dibs on Joker!” Taehyung hand shots up, a blinding smile on his face.

“The villain theme was two years ago,” Yubin points her chopsticks at him, and Taehyung visibly slumps on the floor, a pout replacing his smile. His shoulders sag, and there’s a distinct scent of misery attacking Seokjin’s nostrils, which he counters with the spiciest side dish he can find.

The conversation slowly loses its focus, and they busy themselves with their lunch. Someone naturally asks for more side dishes; someone fishes out as many tofu bits from their stew as possible and shares them with their neighbours. Someone closely monitors the water level in their cups, ready to pour more from the bottle that patiently waits at the end of the table. They’re just co-workers, but their dynamics remind of a well-balanced machine, where every part works independently, but they come together to form one cohesive picture.

Seokjin is suddenly glad he can spend some time with them all in semi-formal environment. The overall atmosphere boosts his confidence and gives him courage to speak.

“Did… boss-man…” he slightly trips at the word. “Did he ever mention why he hired me?”

“No, Sikyung just quit one day, and we figured he just found a replacement,” Gihyun shrugs. “Why, you’re gonna overhaul the system?” he laughs, but Seokjin doesn’t smile back, and Suji suddenly stops chewing. Eunkyung looks up from her phone.

“No, not exactly,” Seokjin shakes his head. “But when he hired me, he said that I could try and implement various changes to improve the overall team performance.”

“For example?” Yubin takes another spoonful of her stew. She’s the only one who hasn’t stopped eating. Slowly, Yoongi follows her lead and dumps the rest of his rice into his stew. Suji fills Taehyung’s cup with water.

“For example, like task allocation and redistribution, overall focus, area responsibilities,” Seokjin takes his cup and puts it to his lips. He takes a small sip and continues. “Essentially, we would all be doing the same things, just with more focus on our strengths. Right now, I feel there is a lack of structure.”

“The team is too small to branch out,” Yubin says, although it sounds more like a statement rather than a rebuke. “Our tasks would still inevitably overlap.”

“That’s what I mean,” Seokjin nods eagerly and leans with his elbows on the table. “I’m not talking about drastic changes, just perhaps some clean-up? And I don’t want to bring it up to the boss unless you all are on board.”

“How would you imagine this structure clean-up?” Yubin swallows the final spoon of sundubu jjigae and reaches for her cup of water.

Seokjin momentarily hesitates because he still doesn’t have a full picture in his head, but he then thinks that the team could offer their insights too and tie up the loose ends. Several heads are always better than one.

“Well, I think that Taehyung, Gihyun, and Suji could continue working on content marketing, while you and Yoongi could focus solely on social media,” he feels somewhat nervous under her scrutinizing gaze. “And Eunkyung could dab into PR.”

Eunkyung’s eyes bug out and Seokjin can literally see fireworks exploding in her head, but Yubin slightly furrows her soft eyebrows. And Seokjin suddenly realizes something.

“What about SEO?” she asks as Seokjin’s mind gallops hundreds of miles a second.

No one is looking at him. Everyone is focused either on their food or Yubin.

“I’ll take over as much of the SEO marketing as I can,” he says calmly, trying to read the situation. “But the rest, I think the research or sales team can handle it. We’re already doing a lot of things that, frankly, should be the sales team job.”

It’s like everyone is waiting for her opinion before they decide. Seokjin cannot place his finger on it, but Yubin seems to be oblivious to his inner turmoil when she fishes another kkakdugi out of the white plate and munches on it without any further ado.

“Makes sense,” she nods unperturbed, and the rest of the team one by one chimes in, bombarding Seokjin with their ideas and insights.

He feels overwhelmed with their enthusiasm and relieved, but he’s a bit flabbergasted, too. Listening to Gihyun voicing his opinion about their scope of content marketing, Seokjin wonders if he’s just witnessed a glimpse of the pecking order within their team. If so, they must place emphasis on seniority and age. After all, Yubin is the most senior team member.

It can’t be a type-based structure because their company is a perfect representation of the general type diversity distribution: alphas and omegas make up less than one third of the staff, as far as he knows. And the same applies to his team. Apart from him and Taehyung, the rest are betas.

Seokjin steals a glance at Yubin again, before answering Taehyung about how he could improve their content management, and he realizes he hasn’t caught her scent yet. It’s not like he’s had that many opportunities so far to be at a distance close enough to notice it, but he’s usually pretty good at catching it. His nose is sensitive.

He then considers the possibility that she’s on suppressants. That irks him. People on suppressants confuse him. He doesn’t know where to place them. It’s like they’re a patch of black-and-white in an otherwise multicolour picture. He quickly glances at her again and he finds that there’s nothing in her overall appearance and behaviour that would give away her type. That most definitely irks him.

***

The asphalt underneath the tires turns into a blur of grey and occasional maroon as she changes gears, steps it up, and the rear wheel hums against the friction. Fresh morning wind against her face, Yubin zooms down the lane, acutely aware that her pursuer is speeding up, too.

It’s 8am on Saturday, and the cycling lane in Yeouido Hangang Park is almost empty save for a few random passers-by walking their lapdogs. She dashes down under a bridge, and the 63 Building is suddenly behind her.

There’s no resistance in the chain and pedals, so she changes gears again, the chain clanking and jarring loudly under her. Her knees protest slightly, but the heart pumps adrenaline into her limbs, and the bicycle doesn’t even stutter when she finally hits the 11 km mark and lets the bike simply roll with the accumulated momentum, wheels whirring, her feet dangling slightly below the pedals.

She’s taking deep breaths through her nose and the heartbeat is loud in her ears, but it’s steady. She barely broke into a sweat. That’s nice. Although the sun is already grilling her neck, so Yubin spots the closest bench nearby and beelines towards it.

Right when she dismounts her bike and parks it against the bench, he catches up and his tires screech at how suddenly he jams on the brakes. The rear wheel drifts against the lane surface, but he maintains his balance and gets off the bike without tripping.

He parks his bike, pulls off his ballcap, and runs his hand through his hair. The light-brown dyed locks shoot into all directions possible; there’s a light sheen of sweat on his tan neck. He’s trying to catch his breath when he finally makes an eye contact and breaks into a wide smile. Two deep dimples appear on his smooth cheeks.

“That was intense!” he almost bounces when he pulls a bottle of water from his backpack and flops onto the bench next to her. His legs are so long, his feet poke into the cycling lane.

Yubin leans into the bench comfortably and puffs a stray strand off her forehead.

“There’s less people today. Easier to flex,” she wiggles her eyebrows and takes a big gulp of her water, too.

“I consider this third session a success,” he leans back, closes his eyes, and lets the sun kiss his face. “Can we proceed?” his excited and slightly scratchy tone changes into a low and calm drawl that sounds a lot warmer.

“What have we agreed upon again?” she asks looking at the way sunrays glitter upon her bottle. Yubin remembers it alright, but she stalls because she wants that additional second to let her mind regroup.

“The name and a random daily fact,” he says and turns to look at her with his big single-lid eyes.

She considers him for a second and then offers her hand across the bench.

“Kim Yubin,” she says and gives him a friendly smile. The dimples are back when he shakes her hand.

“Kim Namjoon,” he nods.

They look fondly at each other for a short moment until another cyclist zooms by their bench, and then they snort and start laughing. As if they haven’t figured each other’s names yet, with their Kakao Talk accounts screaming their actual usernames loud and clear.

It’s just that they’ve never mentioned it explicitly. The truth is that they ran into each other accidentally twice while cycling, and somehow, they ended up drafting one behind the other interchangeably, as they covered the same route.

After the second time, he hyped himself into approaching her, saying that he’s never had such a compatible cycling partner before, and they exchanged numbers. He promised a more decent self-introduction if they managed to successfully cycle for the third time.

“A random daily fact, huh,” she says thoughtfully, looking at the Han River in front of them.

“I can be your dumpster,” he offers out of the blue, and she finds herself laughing before she can even stop.

“What?” Yubin turns to look at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. He shrugs, and there’s this sweet smile on his face that makes her want to buy him a cookie.

“We’re just two Seoulites on bikes,” he says. “And I really enjoy cycling with you. So, I want to give something or be something in return.”

“So, you want to be my dumpster?” Yubin cocks one eyebrow at him incredulously.

“Might as well,” he shrugs again and takes a gulp of his water.

Yubin scoffs to herself, but it’s a good-natured scoff. She looks ahead and her face moulds into an unreadable mask. Wind plays with her hair as she leans back into the bench again, all her guard down, and sighs.

“My student came out to me the other day,” she says.

Namjoon stills and she turns to look at him. There’s an indescribable expression on his face.

“I’m a temp at a uni,” Yubin explains. Namjoon stares.

“In class?” his eyes widen and his eyebrows travel up his forehead.

“No, she shakes her head. “In private.”

His shoulder line relaxes somewhat, and he takes another gulp of water. He looks thoughtful. A couple walks by with a fluffy bichon on a leash, and the dog barks at them a few times before prancing away.

“The student must like you very much,” he says eventually, and Yubin throws her head back, a frustrated groan in her throat, but she manages to swallow it down the last second. Namjoon notices it nevertheless. “You’re not comfortable with that?” he asks, looking somewhat guarded.

“I am…” Yubin squints looking at the deep blue September sky. “Relieved that she doesn’t feel threatened by me. But at the same time, that kind of trust feels like a burden. Like I should do something to make it all better. But there’s nothing I can do.”

“Are you sure?” Namjoon lips stretch into an enigmatic smile.

“I’m sure,” Yubin closes her eyes and slowly turns her head to the right until she feels a stretch all the way up down to her shoulder. “Here I am living my quiet little life, and there comes this kid with big sparkly adoring eyes, and she dumps this on me,” Yubin turns her head to the left and holds the stretch again. “I’m not qualified.”

“Well, congratulations,” Namjoon says softly. “You’re an adult.”

Yubin scoffs. “A helpless adult.”

“You listened to what she had to say,” Namjoon offers. “Perhaps it’s not that obvious, but you’ve already helped a lot.”

“You know,” Yubin pries her eyes open and her fingers play with the water bottle absent-mindedly. “When I was growing up, I had this understanding that everyone could just like anyone. So, I thought, as long as you like what you like, what’s the big deal? But now I just… don’t know,” she looks down and chews on her lower lip.

“There are many points of view out there,” Namjoon sounds thoughtful. “As long as you don’t force yours on others, it’s not that hard to co-exist.”

“But society tends to force it, doesn’t it?” Yubin smirks and casts a glance at Namjoon. She’s surprised to see that his face is a lot more serene now than before. He looks relaxed.

“Society tends to look for justifications until it implodes on itself,” he says. “I wonder what they’re gonna do when types become obsolete.”

“Tell me about it,” Yubin reaches out for her backpack, zips it open, and starts rummaging for that gimbap she grabbed near the subway station on her way here. Her stomach is growling. “Oh, you’re gay, but you’re into a different type? That’s cool, just adopt a pup. But when you’re gay and you’re chasing after the same type?” she whistles. “Ancestral curses on the next five generations of both houses.”

Namjoon chuckles as Yubin pulls out her kimchi gimbap and tears off the foil.

“No, but seriously,” she continues and offers a slice of her gimbab to Namjoon. He gladly takes one, muttering a quiet _thank you_. “Just think about it, in this day and age, how do the types differ aside from the stench? The social structure is more prevalent than the actual genes that have been disintegrating for centuries.”

She pops a slice of gimbap into her mouth and starts chewing on it with vengeance. Her cheeks puff out when the juicy ingredients hit her taste buds, and it takes her mind off things. Only to realize that perhaps she’s got slightly too agitated about this one.

Yubin stills and peeps at Namjoon. He’s focused on something far away in the river, and the angry bag of snakes in her gut calms down. She takes another slice of gimbap.

“Sorry, that must’ve been more than one random fact,” Yubin offers him more gimbap and Namjoon gratefully takes it. He quickly stuffs it into his mouth and reaches for his backpack.

“No, it’s actually a very relevant topic,” he pulls out a rather big plastic container with a blue lid. “I have a friend who’s doing his doctoral dissertation on how the type-specific social norms influence our understanding of same-sex relationship,” he chuckles. “He’s decided to include a few case studies, and now he’s buried under tons of data he needs to analyse. In foreign languages, too.”

“Your friend is a brave soul,” Yubin gets allergies just thinking about a doctoral degree. Namjoon’s cheekbones lift up in a warm smile.

“He’s one of a kind,” and he opens the plastic container. It’s full of mini pancake skewers. Spring onions, mushrooms, crab meat, and some marinated meat that looks like pork, all cut in neat even strips and covered in a layer of batter, grilled to golden perfection.

Yubin’s eyebrows shoot up and she stares at Namjoon.

“I didn’t make these,” he laughs and offers her some. “I’m not allowed anywhere near the kitchen,” Yubin gingerly takes one mini skewer. “But I was told to share these or else…”

Yubin smiles and takes a bite. The marinated pork basically melts against her palate, and she stifles a moan that threatens to escape her throat.

“These are really good!” she declares with her mouth full. “Compliments to the chef!”

“Thank you!” Namjoon beams. “I will convey the compliments. Uh…” he awkwardly puts the container on the bench and fumbles with his phone as he pulls it out of his pocket. “Umm…” he looks up at her shyly as he unlocks his phone. “Do you mind?” he raises his phone, ready to take a picture of her. “You know? As a proof?”

Yubin wonders just how strict is the person that Namjoon needs to report to, but she strikes a pose, the skewer in one hand and a “V” sign in another, and Namjoon snaps a picture.

“If it goes online, you’re dead,” she says matter-of-factly and bites off the mushroom.

Namjoon’s fingers stutter against the phone screen, and he looks up blinking like an owl.

“Somehow… I have no doubt about that,” he mumbles and then gives her a reassuring smile, his eyes shrinking into crescents.

They fall into a comfortable silence as they share their food on the bench and wash it with water. The sun is climbing up and the park is gradually filling up with people. It’s not noisy. Still quite early in the morning, but the weather happens to be fine, and the incoming crowd is bound to be suffocating later in the day.

“Double standards piss me off, too,” Namjoon then says suddenly when he closes the empty plastic container and shoves it into his backpack.

“Huh?” Yubin looks up from the foil she stuffed into an empty plastic bag. Namjoon zips up his backpack.

“I live with an alpha,” he says airily. “And we get little to no shit compared to this female omega couple that we know.”

Yubin gawks at him, her fingers frozen on the plastic bag.

“Um…” she manages, when Namjoon leans in closer and smiles.

“That’s my random daily fact number one,” he winks.

Yubin shakes herself out of the untimely stupor and pushes the bag into her backpack. “I see,” she mumbles and gets off the bench. He follows, and she realizes once again how tall he is. Namjoon is really tall. Well, admittedly, she’s short, but Kim Namjoon is definitely over a hundred eighty.

“Thank you,” Yubin says, and she hopes that he understands she’s thanking for more than just the ride and the food. “I do enjoy spending time with you. I don’t even notice it fly,” she shrugs.

Namjoon laughs, taps his phone until the screensaver lights up, and shows her the time. It’s already past 9 am.

“Almost two whole hours,” he sounds exhilarated. Yubin smiles automatically, but her eyes focus on the screensaver photo. He doesn’t pull the phone away, and something tells her it’s the random daily fact number two.

There’s a girl with shoulder-length hair gripping an empty pillow case and laughing at something or someone behind the camera. There are dimples on her cheeks and white feathers in her black hair. Yubin blinks.

“Is she… yours?” she asks carefully, but Namjoon beams proudly and looks at his phone with so much honey pouring from his eyes that she has no doubts left.

“Yep,” he says. “That’s Yeji.”

Yeji looks around six. Namjoon doesn’t look older than 25. Yubin pushes everything to the back of her head because she doesn’t want to concern herself with it.

“Is that why you asked to meet up early in the morning?” she inquires instead and watches Namjoon laugh shyly as he puts on his backpack and pulls his bike towards the cycling lane.

“I can only wish she’d sleep that long,” he chuckles. “My alpha finally has some time off, so I don’t need to bother my mother.”

An uncomfortable tingle runs down her spine at “my alpha,” but she ignores it. Yubin pushes her bike onto the lane into the direction opposite of Namjoon. She’s going to cross the Mapo Bridge and then take a subway home from there. Namjoon is probably taking Line 9.

“Male alpha and good with kids? He’s a catch,” Yubin winks.

“Tell me about it,” Namjoon smiles fondly and mounts his bike. “Can I look forward to another session?”

Yubin smiles and nods, patting her handlebars. “My baby is always ready.”

Namjoon beams, nods, gives her a very enthusiastic wave, and rolls away, ringing his bicycle bell a few times. Yubin chuckles quietly to herself shaking her head, and she’s about to mount her bike and drive away, when her phone vibrates violently in her pocket.

She frowns and pushes her bike to the side-line, thinking she needs to change her messaging app vibration pattern. Fishing the phone out of her zip-up hoodie pocket, she opens Kakao Talk.

**Miya-Miya**

_My King!!!_  
_It is that time of the year when I am entirely at your mercy! m(_ _)m_

Yubin sighs and shakes her head, but her heart gives an excited leap.

_My queen loves being indebted to me._

**Miya-Miya**

_Those are the only debts I gladly pay._ 😙

_You know the passcode. Don’t forget the beer._

**Miya-Miya**

😍 ❤️

Yubin looks at the onslaught of emoji stickers in the chat room, and then she locks her phone and shoves it into her backpack. She stares into the space for a short while and wonders if there’s anything on her face that makes people trust her.

***

The elevator lurches and that peculiar knot in his guts tells him that they’re crawling up. Seokjin watches the numbers change slowly at the top of the door. It is eerily quiet save for the constant buzz of the elevator and occasional sniffs coming from the boy next to him.

There’s a distinct scent of freshly cut grass hovering in the enclosed space, and Seokjin guesses that Jungkook hasn’t showered since last night. It’s not an annoying scent. In fact, it’s quite pleasant, but it also reminds Seokjin of what he’s signed up for by allowing this kid into his house. Again.

Jungkook stands straight next to him with a massive black backpack on his shoulders and a big carton box in his hands. There’s an unfocused gaze in his dark beady eyes that lands somewhere on the top of the box as he dumbly chews on his lower lip. He black hair is a mess of a bird nest that somehow falls below his cheekbones. Seokjin thinks he hasn’t cut it since he was discharged in January. He looks like a shaggy shaman dog that dispels ghosts and evil spirits. Well, Seokjin muses, might as well keep him as a mascot.

The elevator pings when they reach their floor and Seokjin steps out of it without even giving Jungkook another glance. He walks over towards his wing on the block with the boy following in tow and notices someone push a huge luggage into the apartment next door, right when they emerge from behind the corner. The door clicks and the lock beeps sealing his neighbours from the outside world.

Reaching for his door lock to punch in the passcode, Seokjin wonders if his new neighbours have finally moved in. He knows that the apartment next door shouldn’t be empty, he’s heard the door lock beep several times, but the place is so quiet that he’s just assumed it’s been someone from the cleaning service coming over to brush off the dust regularly.

His lock beeps, and he opens the door wide, waiting for Jungkook to step in. But the young man hesitates, gnawing on his lip, gripping tight at his carton box. Seokjin narrows his eyes.

“What?” he asks.

“Is this really okay?” that voice is now definitely lower and huskier, but still as airy and uncertain as he remembers.

Seokjin fights the urge to roll his eyes and remind him that it was Jungkook in the first place who begged him to let him bunk together. Instead he just taps Jungkook on the back, pushing him inside the apartment.

“My boss said that family members and pets are okay,” he follows Jungkook and takes off his shoes. “I just need to cover the expenses if they break anything.”

“I won’t break anything,” Jungkook mumbles kicking off his massive black trainers and stepping into fluffy white slippers waiting for him in the corner of the small tiled lobby.

“I know,” Seokjin says softly and he looks over his shoulder for Jungkook to follow him further into the apartment. Jungkook steps after him onto the ondol floor and shuffles across the living room, careful not to brush against anything with his backpack or his box.

Seokjin strides straight to the closed white door next to his bedroom and opens it in one big swing. A blast of light reaches his eyes, and he has to squint. For what it’s worth, the apartment is definitely really bright, and he’s actually quite glad he doesn’t need to lock Jungkook up in some dark storage room with one cupboard and a sleeping bag.

He looks around wondering why the kid hasn’t caught up yet, but he finds him standing in the middle of the living room, the carton box at his feet, his hands trembling slightly. Seokjin manages to catch the very moment when Jungkook’s eyelids flutter shut and he takes a very deep breath. It’s fascinating to watch how every single muscle on his face relaxes, and the tension leaves his shoulders, although the massive backpack still hangs there.

Jungkook opens his eyes and offers him a tentative soft smile.

“This feels like home,” he says with a slight shrug.

Seokjin lets out a small sigh and motions at the open door with his head.

“Your room,” he says. “You might wanna unpack,” he brushes past Jungkook when the latter picks up his box again, and then he heads straight to the open kitchen.

Jungkook shuffles into the room and Seokjin hears a soft gasp. He guesses the kid likes the room.

“We’ll have to go get some groceries later, but I can make hot chocolate right now,” Seokjin’s raised voice echoes across the apartment as he opens a cupboard. “You want some?”

“Mm!” comes an enthusiastic monosyllabic reply.

Seokjin stares at the cupboard dumbly, and then shakes his head snatching two big mugs and setting the kettle to boil.

“If anyone had any doubts that I’m an omega…” he grumbles under his breath.

Seokjin sighs and weighs down his head, closing his eyes and leaning against the white counter. His shoulders hunch slightly, part of his collarbone peeking out through a wide neck cut on his white shirt.

He can’t lie. He felt something tug at his heartstrings when he saw Jungkook relax surrounded by his scent. The kid had spent his formative high school years with Seokjin, and it might not have been anyone’s intention, but Seokjin sometimes thinks Jungkook has subconsciously imprinted on him like a duckling on a mama duck. He can’t deny that it titillates his self-esteem to know he has an alpha like Jeon Jungkook at his disposal. On the other hand, the kid’s a menace.

When the water boils and he’s finally stirring the hot chocolate drinks, there’s just a very slight spike in that freshly mowed lawn scent to warn him of the incoming. Right when he tosses the teaspoon into the sink, a pair of wiry arms wrap around his waist and a chin rests on his right shoulder. A strand of messy dark hair brushes against his ear and Seokjin tries not to squirm at the sensation.

Jungkook exhales blissfully.

“Thank you, hyung,” he says closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of Seokjin’s scent again. Straight from the source this time.

“Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin cleans the counter. The army’s done him good. Jungkook’s has clearly bulked up.

“I promise I will bully them into giving me a dorm room next semester,” Jungkook mumbles against his shoulder, and Seokjin carefully carries the two mugs of hot chocolate to the bar kitchen table across from the counter, with Jungkook attached to his back like a clingy (and heavy) koala.

“You don’t have to bully anyone,” Seokjin scoffs and places the mugs on the table. “Just smile at them a few times and they will assign you one…” he thinks for a second. “And maybe cut your hair first. Or tie it up.”

There’s a puff of airy giggles next to his ear, and then Seokjin feels the tip of a big round nose move across his shoulder line. Then there’s a cheek plastered to his neck, and then several metal piercings drag along his skin, too. He stares at the steamy surface of his hot chocolate drink.

“Are you… scenting me?” he asks calmly.

The pressure on his neck and shoulder disappears, and he feels Jungkook tense up, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“No?” he offers, when his cheek attaches to Seokjin’s shoulder again.

“Don’t scent me, JK. You’re not in high school anymore,” Seokjin checks his surroundings, notices how Jungkook stands, looks if there are fragile objects around. “JK,” he repeats, but the grip on his waist only grows tighter.

Jungkook doesn’t understand how it happens. One second, he’s in his happy place, and the next, he’s already lying face down on the kitchen floor, his arms locked in a very painful angle behind his back. His wrists are in an iron grip and there’s a slightly annoyed omega sitting on his butt.

“Ah!” he grunts.

“I told you to stop!” Seokjin declares. “You have to listen to your elders, JK!”

“Since when have I ever listened to you, old man!” Jungkook spits in playful defiance, his cheek stuck to the wooden floor. The grip on his wrists grows tighter, and the pain gauge in his left shoulder goes up. “Argh!” he knocks his forehead on the floor. His piercings clang and jangle loudly. He attempts to wriggle free, but the more he tries, the less he can move. “Why are you so fucking strong?” Jungkook whines eventually.

“Why?” Seokjin sounds incredulous. “Why shouldn’t I be strong?”

“I just want to be as strong as you,” the younger man mutters with resignation, his body going lax.

Seokjin blinks surprised, until he realizes he’s still gripping Jungkook’s wrists tight. He lets go and stands up, staring down at the alpha with a pensive look on his face. Jungkook turns around on his back and looks up at the omega still splayed on the floor, his hair pointing at every direction possible.

“You’re strong, JK,” Seokjin says finally offering Jungkook his hand. Jungkook grasps it and Seokjin pulls him back up to his feet. “I just caught you off guard,” Seokjin shrugs and takes his mug, motioning with his head to the remaining one. “Drink your hot choco.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook mumbles quietly and carefully grips the mug with his fingertips, half-expecting the porcelain to be extra hot, but it’s more than bearable. Half of his hands hidden in his long black sleeves and part of his face obscured by his unruly hair, Jungkook sips at the drink and his eyebrows shoot up when the taste finally registers. He sips again.

“And don’t scent people without their permission,” Seokjin drinks his hot chocolate leisurely, leaned against the high table.

“But you used to be okay with scenting before,” Jungkook looks up from his drink and pouts at Seokjin.

“You’re not a teen anymore. You’re a grown-ass man.”

“So what?” Jungkook raises his chin in defiance.

Seokjin considers him thoughtfully, the mug frozen at his lips.

“Hmm,” he takes another sip. “Good question.”

Indeed, so what? Seokjin thinks as he slowly downs his drink, watching Jungkook blow on his hot chocolate and take careful sips. He wonders where this prejudice against scenting comes from. Does it come from him? Does he naturally find it repulsive? Or is he bound to reject it subconsciously because he knows how the others will see it?

What, he’s scared that some random passer-by might catch an alpha scent on him and think he’s claimed? Fuck, if that would ever bother Kim Seokjin. He puts his empty mug on the table with a light clang. People can literally shove all of their ridiculous notions up their asses.

It takes another half an hour before they finally manage to leave the apartment for grocery shopping. After short persuasion, Seokjin has managed to convince Jungkook to comb his hair and tie half of it at the back of his head in a small bun. All he had to do was offer to tame Jungkook’s hair himself, and Jungkook just ran away into his bedroom and didn’t emerge again until his hair was more or less in order. There are still stray strands falling on his forehead, but his eyebrows are visible, and he looks part-human again.

Jungkook stands outside waiting with his now empty backpack slung over his right shoulder, as Seokjin fixes the strap of his eco bag and closes the door. The lock beeps and they turn to go, right when a figure stops in front of the door to the neighbouring apartment.

The figure is rummaging through a big shopping bag for something, and Seokjin wonders if he should greet his neighbour or not when Jungkook halts. The alpha stares at the person dumbly with a blank look on his face until suddenly his already big eyes grow even bigger. Seokjin cannot fathom his reaction and follows the kid’s line of sight until it lands on a rather small figure dressed in dark grey joggers and a black hoodie.

It’s a woman, and she’s finally found her phone in her big shopping bag. Half of her face is obscured by the baseball cap she’s wearing, but that hair looks vaguely familiar, and Seokjin quirks his eyebrow. Wait. Jungkook’s jaw goes slack.

Maybe she feels their eyes on her or maybe she just looks up from her phone at random, but once she does, Seokjin meets her eyes, and he has no doubt left. She’s not wearing any make-up, but that face is impossible not to recognize.

That’s Sunmi. Lee Sunmi. The national goddess. The newest Hollywood sweetheart dressed in a hoodie and standing right in the middle of Seokjin’s apartment complex.

His brain doesn’t compute. He blinks, but he cannot look away. Jungkook looks like he’s about to burp up half of his chocolate drink. Sunmi seems a bit confused, but there’s an amused glitter in her eyes, and Seokjin vaguely wonders if they look that pathetic.

Contrary to them, Sunmi seems to have more than just one functioning braincell. She takes off her cap, shoves it into her shopping bag, runs a hand through her long hair, and waves at them.

“Hi,” she says and smiles. “I’m Sunmi.”

“Hey,” Seokjin’s brain suddenly kicks into the full gear and he waves back. “I’m Seokjin.”

Jungkook’s hand raises a little bit, but he can’t quite tell if it waves or not.

“And this is my pet,” Seokjin adds pointing his thumb at Jungkook.

“A pet?” Sunmi raises her eyebrows and huffs a laugh, which happens to finally pull Jungkook out of his stupor. He sputters indignantly when she eyes him up and down. “Oh, I see. A Sapsali.”

Seokjin has to clench his teeth hard to stop himself from cackling right here and now. Jungkook’s eyebrows knot in a frown, but Seokjin grasps at his forearm, ready to pull him away.

“I’ll be staying here at my friend’s for a while,” she says out of the blue with a smile on her face, but Seokjin knows how to read a request between the lines when he has to.

“We won’t be bothering you,” he nods and walks towards the elevator, dragging Jungkook with him. “It was nice seeing you,” he says in passing.

“It was nice seeing you, too,” her smile is genuine. “Bye, Seokjin! See you, Sapsali!” and she turns to the door lock, ready to enter the passcode.

They disappear behind the corner and calmly walk on, just like on any other regular Saturday afternoon. They reach the elevator door and it arrives almost immediately. They enter it still stunned speechless. Seokjin presses the ground floor button and the elevator lurches into motion.

“She didn’t smell like anything,” Jungkook mumbles absent-mindedly when they’re half-way there.

“She’s an actress,” Seokjin says matter-of-factly. “They’re usually on suppressants.”

Jungkook hems and nods, and stares at the elevator door.

“Why am I a Sapsali?!” he suddenly cracks and explodes. “Oh my god!” he snatches at his head. “Why didn’t I say something? WHY AM I YOUR PET?!!”

“That was quite funny, actually,” Seokjin chuckles, the cackle rising a few tones up with every breath he takes. “And she thought you look like a Sapsali,” the chuckle turns into a full-blown laughter. “Priceless.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook cups his own cheeks, his eyes the size of saucers. “Hyung, do you get it? Sunmi lives next door. Sunmi! This is insane!” he gasps. Jungkook sounds like the essence of the situation has finally dawned on him.

Seokjin suddenly stops laughing and his face grows dead serious. He turns to look at Jungkook.

“More like my neighbour knows Sunmi,” he says when the elevator door pings open. “Now that’s spooky,” and he walks into the main ground floor lobby.

Sunmi toes off her trainers when the door quietly clicks behind her.

“I’m back!” she hollers stepping into her slippers and hurrying into the kitchen with her bag of groceries. A voice from somewhere in the living room acknowledges her presence. “You have a really nice neighbour,” she says and pulls the frozen vegetables and other produce that needs to be stored in the fridge immediately out of her bag.

“Really?” the voice replies. “They have the most annoying morning alarm though.”

“And he has a very cute Sapsali,” Sunmi giggles to herself stuffing the freezer with packs of frozen peas and carrots. “I think I scared him.”

“A what?” Yubin sits up on the sofa and looks back at the open kitchen where Sunmi is sorting out their groceries. She could swear there’s no dog in the apartment next door, what is she on about.

“You’ll see,” Sunmi waves it away and turns to the sink with several potatoes in her hands.

Yubin shrugs and settles back into her sofa. She picks up her phone and rereads a text from Taehyung. He’s asking if she would join him in a performance, he wants to prepare for this year’s Halloween Party.

From her experience, Yubin can clearly tell that it’s better to have something up your sleeve because the boss-man pulls almost everyone on stage anyway. And having already danced at random to _Growl_ at an office Christmas party a few years back (she had to personally threaten every other colleague to take down the videos from Daum and YouTube), Yubin has sort of a party clown reputation at work.

She quickly types _“Sure,”_ and presses SEND.

Ending: [[Yubin - 숙녀 (淑女) Lady]](https://open.spotify.com/track/1fx1OZ7IFHEqohT2GIN0uB?si=_CyZfP3KSJOrvQFR-X93ew)

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Egle0702)


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